


Facing Black

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-22
Updated: 2008-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-29 13:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14473782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atFirefly’s Glow, and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018.  I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address onFirefly's Glow collection profile.





	Facing Black

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

Facing Black

## Facing Black

Leez Clemens yawned and stretched, the chair creaking in protest as her six foot frame pushed the limits of the space around her. She had four hours to go until her shift was over; the rest of her crew would be sound asleep by now; exhausted, she hoped, from a week's revelry on Ariel. 

Her ship, Shiny Franchise, was a Firefly class Level II transporter on its way to Lilac. Its main hold was full and she was carrying two external crates, also full ... badly needed building supplies for a planet that just keeps on growing. The ability to carry external containers meant having to increase the ship's size by half and utilize two arms to lift the containers to its belly. It was expensive to upgrade and with external cargo the elbows of these arms were drawn up on each side of her, giving the impression that the ship was ready to pounce. A little ungainly to look at but the extra space meant never having to turn down a job. The arms folded underneath when not in use. 

Lilac was a little closer to Reaver territory than was normally comfortable, but since the Reynolds Revelation five years previous Reaver activity had died down ... owing to a full scale assault by an Alliance army that seemed to come from nowhere. Remarkably armed battleships, faster than before and highly maneuverable, were driven by well trained soldiers sailing under the Alliance's new flag. 

The Alliance, in palpable and shocking propriety, had hunted most of the Reavers down and proudly established themselves in a new, responsible light. The newly formed Federal Forces for Unity (FFU) were more approachable than their previous incarnation. They were dispatched as emergency engineers and aid wherever needed, their reflective helmets showing the colors of a rainbow when on parade. As apt to visit a preliminary school and dazzle children with their acrobatics as engage in firefights with criminals, they were the Alliance's ambassadors in troubled times. Their battleships, while in orbit, were always open for tours, and for one credit a guided tour was available - with cake and a laser show afterwards. The credits, of course, went directly to emergency relief. 

Miranda was still a no-go planet ... it was considered evidence against those who terra-formed it. The issue had been spun in so many directions that it was impossible for the common folk to agree on what the Alliance's involvement truly was. The focus had been successfully shifted from a grand scale controversy involving `governments within government' to a minor treason trial centered on one man, a scientist now jailed, and , Leez hoped, a patsy. Dr. Jared Paiz was the alleged conspirator. Her father. 

Leez reflected on that as she reviewed the minor course correction her ship demanded. She hadn't seen her father for over two decades and never knew her mother. Jared had given his 14 year old daughter to his sister to raise on the planet Beaumonde. Since then she had nothing to do with her father and told the Alliance as much after his arrest. She hadn't even kept his gorram name. After all, Jared was Alliance and she served as an Independent Lieutenant. As far as she was concerned, the Alliance could do what they wished with him and she would thank them kindly to not draw her into it. She felt certain that they were not through with her yet. The only reason she was still in business was that she had no contact with him at all, ever, and that she had senior standing in the guild. 

She was in her late thirties with closely cropped dark hair and dark brown eyes. Although she didn't see herself as anything but a Captain she had often caught glances from men appraising her. They were quick to turn away as she looked back, though, and she always thought her eyes were a little too piercing, a little too intense, even when she thought she was being flirty. Her smile was engaging, though, and by far her best feature (when she felt like using it). She was thinking of growing her hair long but was undecided. She knew that looking more like a girl had its advantages in business, but looking less like a girl had advantages when business went bad. Maybe a little length would do. Just to see. 

Business for the Transport Guild had been fairly profitable lately, possibly due to the shift in Alliance focus. It seemed a fairly blind eye had been turned towards trade, with more shipping and less hassles. Except for her ship, of course, most boats made their way trouble free. She, on the other hand, was singled out on a constant basis and her crew was tiring of it. She had to increase their percentages but space only knew how long they would stick around when so many other ships were earning three times her profit. 

No use worrying now, she thought, this load would keep them happy for a while, and after the hell they raised on Ariel they would be ready for anything. 

She shifted uncomfortably in the chair and wondered how in hell her pilot, Ogilvie Loorka, could be so damned tiny in a `verse that required size to survive and wits to succeed. Wits he had in cratefuls, she recognized that the first time she met him. He was neat and orderly to the point of mania and his only demand was for the pilot seat to be built to his specifications. Standing at just under five feet and no more than one hundred pounds, the youth had excellent references and was the top of his class in flight school. His only really annoying habit was to appear out of nowhere ... more than once Leez had caught herself before jumping out of her skin when he saddled up out of the black. The decision to install the little chair and make him part of her crew was easy. She remembered the looks she got from the rest of the crew when the seat was brought on board and she secretly enjoyed installing it without a word as to the sitter. 

Her engineer, Claude Fallarian, was the only one to comment on the pilot's stature. An uncompromising man of fifty-odd years, Claude was six feet four inches and still solid. He was good looking and his salt and pepper hair cascaded in curls around his shoulders. A large mustache, of which he was obviously very fond, completed the look of a debonair highwayman of old. A veteran of the Unification War as a profiteer and a rascal by choice, he was reconciling himself to the fact that a 22 year old was piloting his crate. 

`I won't guess at your reasoning, Captain, because I know better ... he ain't handsome, so he's got to be handy. Hell, when he is free he can help me get my trigger wrench from beneath the hold partition; his little boy hands ought to fit easily enough ...' His sly chuckle was interrupted by Leez unceremoniously whacking the railing beside her with a pipe. The loud clang startled Claude and his reaction was almost comical except for his lips curling in a quickly buried sneer. 

`I will thank you for the courtesy of remembering I am Captain, and you would do well not to mention his size, religiosity or whatever quirk you deem fit to knock.' She held the pipe under his chin and walked him back towards the opposite railing. `There is no more room for your kind of fei hua in my boat anymore.' He quickly agreed, his blue eyes never wavering from hers. `I don't want to have to make this a dry ship,' she continued,' but I will if I must. Dong ma?' She made sure her voice was low and icy. 

Claude was a good mechanic and an ingenious improviser in tight situations, although his drinking was getting too casual for her liking. His mouth was a little too loose around her and these situations were getting more frequent. 

The rest of the crew, the triplets, were hired for their size as well as their enthusiasm for adventure. Wyatt, Earl, And Eric Orlandr served under her command for the six months prior to the ending of the war. A few years younger than she, they were competent warriors and inveterate goof offs. The only physical traits they shared were blonde hair and a giant-like stature. Practical jokers to the last, she had to lay the law down for aboard ship behavior - no pranks, period. She could just imagine what their scheming little minds thought when they first met Og. One glance from their captain, however, made it clear that he was out of bounds, on and off ship. 

The course correction would take them near the trajectory and direction of Marker's Cross, a pattern of stars that, when approached a certain way, would form a brilliant X with a circle around it. Popular with the tourists, it was the subject of many romance novels and was simply pretty to look at. 

A buzz from the scanner indicated a general message signal. Usually reserved for advertising, she wondered why it was so far out. She couldn't believe that hardcore commercialism had reached the outer planets yet ... they were barely eking out existence and could ill afford anything frivolous. She frowned as she hit the receive button. The message zipped into the cabin loud and clear ... 

`... anyone, anyone at all receiving this ... hit hard ... pirates ... life support on reserve ... need help ...'. 

Pirates? Her hands flew across the board finding the source of the transmission. So that is why it was on a general frequency, she thought, it used less power ... the emergency beacon could just as easily alert the pirates to survivors as hail assistance. Whoever was on that boat had brains or was just lucky. She wanted to find out. 

Ten minutes later a tired crew was standing, leaning, and slouching in the cabin. Og was piloting towards the source at max speed with orders to stop dead at proper hailing distance. After they scanned the area for whoever did this, of course. Things like this could turn out to be a trap to the unwary. 

Ogilvie was in his chair. `I found the source, Captain ... it looks like a really banged up train ... only three cars but there is lots of debris so it was probably dragging more ...the signal is coming from one of them ... can't tell which unless we get closer.' 

A train, Leez thought. Tourists, and here for Marker's Cross, no doubt. Why would anyone hit something like this? Not much gain for so much trouble ... only Reavers would have done something so bold but there would be no survivors left at all. 

`Already checking, Captain, nothing remotely resembling Reaver activity,' Og said.' Or any activity ... anywhere. One life pulse beacon working ... confirmed. One survivor on board. Weird.' 

No, Og, Leez thought, you reading my mind before I set it is weird. 

`Okay,' she said, `This looks legit and helping our fellow man will go a long way towards our standings regarding Alliance attention. Get us in closer, Og, find which one he is in. Let him know that company's coming and not to start blasting. Claude, Eric and I will be in the shuttle waiting for your get-go.' 

`Won't be a minute, Captain. Coordinates will be ready for you by the time you buckle in.' 

Sure enough, by the time Leez had armed her party and suited up for space the coordinates were in place. The shuttle pulled off Shiny and oriented itself to dock with the car closest. Approaching slowly, an object bounced across the window screen, making the crew jump. `Debris is everywhere, ` she said, `what the blazes happened?'. More debris dragged itself across the window, one piece causing the crew to collectively drop their jaws. A soldier's helmet ... FFU, complete with matching space-dried head inside. Suddenly a river of FFU troops scattered across the shuttle's nose. 

`A troop transport? By train? Since when do the Feds go by train...?' Eric was interrupted as the approach bell sounded it was ready for docking. 

`I don't know, Captain, maybe we otta send word to the Feds about this before we go in there heavy handed ...' Claude suggested, nervously hitting his visor with his knuckles. 

Something told her no, bad idea. 

`No, bad idea,' she said. Claude grunted his disagreement with her decision. 

The airlock held and no alarms were triggered, indicating life support was still operating on the car. `Me first,' she said, `Then Claude, and Eric you cover our backs when inside. Ready?' Guns locked and they were on the move. 

Inside, emergency lighting was scarce ... shadows were everywhere. Somewhere inside she could hear Og's voice confirming help was on its way. They headed towards the crumpled front of the car ... amazed that it was still intact and all of them dreading what waited around every unknown corner. The front of the car held communications and was the only logical place for the survivor to be. 

`I don't like this, Captain,' Eric said. `Troops don't travel by train, not for any good reason, anyway.' 

`Yeah,' she agreed. Not for any good reason. `I suspect they were ... hold!' Everybody crouched as her hand went up. Leez crept forward as Eric and Claude split to cover her. Approaching the body, she rolled it over ... her visor light illuminating a red star outlined with gold. 

`Og, what is this? What is this insignia? I don't recognize it.' 

In the ship, Og peered into the remote screen indicating his Captain's view. His fingers traced the badge on the screen and tapped it twice, transferring it to the ship's computer. In a second he had his answer. 

`Prison transport, Captain. That explains the red star ... newly formed troops. The gold surrounding it I can only guess ...'. 

`I can guess, too. The gold around the badge, at least during the war, meant Special Forces. Elite troops. Gorram stormtroopers.' 

Og's voice was a little shaky. `You mean this was ... ?'. 

Leez finished his sentence `... somebody pretty damned important they were transporting. Not just your common, everyday psychopath, either. `. Leez knew she couldn't just abandon the search. Whoever inside was injured ... and if they weren't injured and tried anything stupid, they soon would be. 

`Let's move. Communications has to be around the next corner.' 

The room was dark and still. One light was blinking on a small terminal on the wall. Leez crept in, engaging her infra-red. Sure enough, a faint red glow was about three yards ahead of her. It looked like a heap, no definite form. The little amount of heat it gave off meant life, but barely so. 

`Clear', Eric said from her right, and Claude answered same from her left. Leez relaxed and turned off the infra-red. Her regular light automatically switched on revealing what could only be an old, skinny man with torn orange clothes and blood on the floor in front of her. The body had to be moved so it was no use treating it with kid gloves. She rolled it over and a bearded face appeared, mouth open. Fading grey eyes rolled towards her and a dried tongue blindly folded words she could barely hear. 

`Knew ... you would come ... `. His arms raised slowly and she tried to lift him but he pulled her closer. `I ... no other choice but general frequency ... `. His eyes tried to focus but her light was too bright. She turned it off as the room lights started waveringly. Claude had turned on the power to the car and was readying the portable stretcher with Eric. 

`Come on, Captain,' Claude urged, `We have five minutes of power at full illumination. We can make it if we leave now.' 

The man passed out. 

Wyatt and Earl had been busy when they were gone. The first aid room was prepared and the unconscious man was gently placed onto the table. No bones broken, good. Not much loss of blood, good. Concussion, bad. Federal prisoner that may or may not have wiped out a squadron of Elite Federal Guards, very bad. Earl, better with needles, injected the stranger's arm with adrenalin. In a moment he was awake. 

He tried to sit up and Earl's hand pushed him down. `Easy now, old-timer. You best rest yer head.' Nevertheless, he turned this way and that, finally resting his gaze on Leez. Something about his intensity gave her the creeps. She stepped forward. `I am Captain ...' He waved her down. 

`I ... know who you are.' A half cough that could have been a laugh lept from him. `Sometimes, punkin' ... life is so full of circles it's like living in a box of hose clamps ...' 

Claude spoke up ... `What in hell did you give him, boy? He is worse now than when he was before! Gone delirious ... Seeing things ... and what is a `punkin', anyway?' 

Earl shrugged, wondering why the drug didn't make the man more coherent. `I dunno ... something you eat?' 

One person in the room knew what it was ... or at least, what it meant. The full weight of the name had brought back memories of a man just like this, only younger, sharper. A man she knew, but only briefly and not too well. 

She was `punkin', and he was her father. 

End of Part One 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title:   **Facing Black**   
Series Name:   **Facing Black**   
Author:   **Tim**   
Details:   **Series**  |  **PG**  |  **16k**  |  **05/22/08**   
  



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